Hand in Glove
by louisestrange
Summary: Just when Dave thinks he might, finally, be getting over Kurt Hummel, who walks into Scandals on a Friday night and changes everything? Yep, Kurt f***ing Hummel.
1. Chapter 1

**Hand in Glove**

When Dave steps into the bar, everything's the same as every other Friday night at Scandals. He slips past the bouncer with a small smile and a nod - no need for a flash of the fake ID now he's a regular – and heads past the busy dance floor towards the pool table to meet the guys who've become his friends over the last six months, guys just like him - _bears _- the kind of guys he'd never dreamed existed when he was too scared to even Google the word 'gay', guys who'd accepted him and looked out for him without question or judgement.

"Hey," he said, attempting to take off his jacket before being grabbed by Mike, sometime Scandals barman, who'd been first to take Dave under his metaphorical wing.

"Hey yourself," Mike smirked and grabbed him by the arm as he marched them towards the bar, "I don't know what you've been getting up to in your spare time, cubbie, but there is the cutest underage twink sitting at the bar asking questions about you," Mike points to the boy perched on the stool at the far end of the bar, delicately clutching his martini glass. It's dark but for the flashing pink and amber lights from the dance floor, but the silhouette is achingly familiar.

"That's..." he pauses and looks back at Mike. "He asked about me? What did he ask?"

"Patience, David. You dish first."

"It's Kurt," Dave replies, looking pointedly back at Mike. "Y'know, the guy from my old school. The one I _told _you about." His eyes flick back to Kurt. His mouth's gone dry and he wants a beer more now than he thinks he ever has in his life.

"_Oh..."_ is all the response he gets from Mike. He's heard drunken Dave lament their colorful history.

"Well, what did he ask?" Dave pulls free of Mike's grip and tries to look at him while he speaks, but really, Kurt is less than eight feet in front of him, all lean lines and good posture, the light catching his features so as to highlight his cheekbones and those full lips...Kurt fucking Hummel, back at Scandals. It was hard to concentrate on anything else.

"He said he was looking for a cute cub named Dave to fuck his brains out."

"Um, what?" Dave tore his gaze away from Kurt at that.

"Thought that'd get your attention," Mike chuckled, then, seeing the serious expression on Dave's face, quickly matched it. "Just messin' with you. Sorry. Dickie just asked me if you were coming tonight, said the kid at the bar asked about you. That's all I know."

"Right," Dave cast a sideways glance at the dance floor. "Is his boyfriend with him?"

"How the fuck should I know?" Mike elbowed his ribs and smiled, "Go ask him yourself."

It'd been almost three months since Dave had seen Kurt, right here at the same bar and he couldn't lie, at least not to himself, that after their brief conversation that night he'd been thinking about him. A lot. That particular night, he'd done some serious _thinking_ about him when he got home, remembering the curl of his lips as they talked and the wiggle of his hips as he'd joined his boyfriend on the dance floor.

More than once in the weeks that followed, he'd hovered over the 'Add Friend' button on Kurt's facebook profile, only to think better of it, after everything. Not that the enormous crush he'd had on Hummel since freshman year had ever gone away, but he'd worked so hard to get over it, to move on – after his post Prom meltdown, he'd told his Dad some of the story and his therapist all of it – and the catharsis it brought meant a fresh start across the board. While he wasn't even close to being back to where he started, he was disappointed – no, _frustrated_ – that so much of what he'd worked on has been easily undone by a few kind words and Kurt smiling that smile, just for him.

The situation hadn't been helped any when he saw Blaine back at Scandals with that slutty rich kid, sans Kurt, just a few weeks later. He couldn't help but wonder at _that_.

As he stared across the bar at Kurt - sitting cross-legged, sipping his drink and side-eyeing the guy who'd just slid into the seat beside him - Dave felt butterflies in his stomach. Just when he thought he was about as gay as he was ever going to be, the very sight of Kurt Hummel made him want to sing showtunes and dance cartwheels across the floor. "Fuck my life," Dave muttered in Mike's general direction, and made his way towards the cute twink at the bar.


	2. Chapter 2

Hand in Glove – Ch.2

"So," Dave slid into the small space between barstools, beside Kurt, and cleared his throat. "D'you come here often?" He hoped the purposely cheesy line came off light and humorous, but his mouth was still too-dry and he felt suddenly flushed. He told himself it was just the warmth of the crowded bar heating his air-cooled skin.

Kurt's face registered distaste, then quickly morphed into a bright smile when he saw who was delivering the cheesy line. His eyes met Dave's for a second, then, glancing away from Dave, regaining his cool , he said airily, "Oh, you know, every once in a while."

The barman - Dickie - approached Dave before he could say anything else, "The usual?"

"Yeah, please."

"And for your friend?" Dickie raised a suggestive eyebrow at Dave, who looked back at Kurt nervously.

"Same again?"

"Um, yes, thanks," and with that, Kurt drained his glass, licked his lips, leaned an elbow on the bar and resumed smiling at Dave.

"Where's your boyfriend tonight?" It was out before he'd thought better of it. _Smooth_, Dave thought; _don't bother with 'Hi, how've you been?' Get straight to the point, asshole._

Kurt's smile disappeared and he gripped his now empty glass between his thumb and forefinger, letting the base twirl lightly on the scratched wood surface of the bar. His eyes didn't meet Dave's when he answered, though his smile made a slight return. "I don't have one. I am officially single."

"Oh, right...that makes sense, I guess." Dave nodded his head slightly and took a quick gulp of the beer that had just been placed in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, I know, right?" He looked hurt, then angry. "Who'd want me?" His voice was thick with irony, and he let out an indignant puff of air before draining half of his newly poured cocktail.

"What? No, shit, Kurt...that's not what I meant. I saw him – _Blaine?_ – here a while ago without you, so, that makes sense, I guess." He paused, squeezed his eyes shut and mentally chided himself for opening his fucking mouth at all. Kurt stayed silent, lips pressed tight shut, and looked at him questioningly. Dave could only fill the awkward silence with more babble. "Y'know, 'cause you weren't with him. I wondered. It makes sense that you've split up, or you'd've been here too, right?"

"Oh, right." Kurt's expression was still apprehensive. Dave had been on the receiving end of that kind of look from Kurt – fucking _wounded_ – too many times, he did not want to be the cause of it tonight.

"I wasn't saying that he...like, that you _should_ be single. Obviously. I mean, look at you, you're a total catch, or whatever." _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ was all that was going through Dave's head now. Kurt Hummel managed to flick Dave's self destruct switch whenever he was within thirty feet.

Kurt looked at him, appraisingly; gauging his sincerity. His lips curled into a sad smile.

"I'm sorry ..." Dave started again, seemingly unable to shut his yap.

"Nope," Kurt cut him off, "No need for sorries. Not tonight. I guess I'm still just a little sensitive. I ended it, but..." He trailed off; eyes glazed, and took another slurp of his drink. With that uncharacteristically inelegant motion, Dave realised that Kurt was definitely a little drunk.

"Well, that's cool," Dave winced inwardly. "But if you want to talk or anything..." He drained half of his bottle of beer, hoping it'd take the edge off the sudden awkwardness.

"He was pretty much sexting with another guy, but, whatever. Fuck him, right?"

"Totally," Dave had never seen Kurt drunk before, and had never heard him curse. He felt a little ashamed of himself for thinking it was hot. "I always knew he was a douche."

"Well, the feeling was mutual, but..." Kurt looked at him, eyes wide - half worried, half mocking. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that..."

"No, it's fine, I was a massive douchebag."

"Well, you're less douchey now."

"Um, thanks..."

"You're welcome."

They talked some more; Dave told Kurt that he'd come out to his Dad – about how he'd been really cool about _everything_ – and about how much simpler things were since he'd transferred to Carmel. Dave heard all about how Kurt wanted his senior year to be fairytale-magical but what reality delivered was "Less Brothers Grimm, more plain old _grim_". Kurt told Dave he didn't blame him for not wanting to come out at school; told him how he'd lost out on the role of Tony in West Side Story for being _too gay_, how he'd lost the election for Senior Class President for probably the same reasonand how the likelihood of him going to NYADA was looking slimmer than a supermodels hips because gay boys with nice voices were, apparently, ten-a-penny outside of Lima.

"And to top it all off," he added, finishing his martini and sucking the left over olive into his mouth before continuing, "I now have to endure the horror of having my ex-boyfriend beat me out for solos week after week in Glee club. That club used to be my refuge! They don't even need me anymore, I'm just there to make up numbers - Blaine's super-talented, and stylish, _and gay_; that Irish kid can sing falsetto..."

"Hummel, you're forgetting something."

"What?"

"Star quality – the x factor, or something. None of them have it. But you..." Dave tried to fend off the embarrassment that started to creep in at those words, but fuck it. It was the truth, and he certainly owed Kurt some of that. "All I know is that, whenever I had to sit through an assembly or some shit where New Directions put on a little show, you were the only one I was watching."

"Oh."

Dave shrugged, "It's true." He took a long pull on his beer and let the liquid fizz on his tongue until the taste became unpleasant. He had to fight the urge to put the cool glass bottle against his now burning face. He was _not _trying to flirt, damnit. He was just trying to make a friend feel better. He was looking downwards, not really seeing anything, silence stretching out between them. He looked back up at Kurt, finally meeting his eyes again. "And anyway, we've already established that Blaine is a major d-bag and all those other gleek kids are batshit crazy. I should know, I used to date one of them."

Kurt chuckled at that, blue-green eyes sparkling. "Speaking of which, do you have a sexy new beard at Carmel?"

"No," Dave smiled in spite of himself, the idea of having a beard at all brought back his murky past and made him feel guilty. He started to pick at the label on his beer bottle. "I'm not out, but I'm not overcompensating like I did at McKinley. I'm just trying to stay under the radar, y'know?"

Kurt nodded in response, uncrossed his legs and leaned, almost imperceptibly, forward. "So, no sexy new boyfriend either?"

Dave almost choked on his drink. "Uh, no. Definitely not."

"Look at us, huh?" Kurt said, sitting upright and recrossing long, slim legs, calf grazing Dave's thigh as he did. He gesticulated between them, wielding the cocktail stick he still held in his hand. "Just a couple of single gay guys at a bar on a Friday night."

"Who'd've thunk it, right?" Dave smiled at that. A year ago, he'd never have thought any of this could be possible. He was sitting in a _gay bar_, drinking with Kurt _fucking_ Hummel. What bizarro version of his world had he managed to stumble into?

"Who'd've thunk it." Kurt nodded, and for a few seconds, they gazed at each other; silly smiles on both their faces. It wasn't awkward, or strained. It felt simple and uncomplicated, then. It felt...good. In those few simple seconds, they'd shared a _moment. _Dave didn't know quite what that moment was, or what exactly it meant, but he knew he'd like to have more of them in order to find out.

"Can I get you girls another drink?" As quickly as it had come, the moment was gone as Dickie appeared from behind the bar, lips pursed in a wicked smile.

"Thanks, _Dick_," Dave intoned, and narrowed his eyes at the interfering barman for effect.

"My turn!" Kurt sang, and stood up to wrestle his wallet from the impossibly tight pocket of his grey skinny jeans. "I'll have a vodka martini – two olives this time – and, Dave?"

"It's fine, I'll get it..."

"Dave." Kurt gave him a stern look, "Beer?"

"Please."

Kurt turned his attention back to Dickie. "And whatever kind of beer Dave drinks."

Dickie wore an ear-to-ear grin and addressed Kurt as he popped the top off a Bud and placed it in front of Dave. "You're a feisty one."

"So I've been told," Kurt said; his best innocent smile on display as he handed over a twenty.

"Watch it, Dave, I think this one might try'n get you good and drunk," Dickie winked at Kurt before turning to the illuminated shelf behind him to mix Kurt's drink.

This time, Kurt blushed, and Dave, in turn, felt that familiar warmth spread across his cheeks. They were silent until Dickie set Kurt's drink in front of him and left them alone, and Kurt raised his glass toward Dave in a toast.

"To fresh drinks, and new beginnings"

Dave beamed. "To new beginnings."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hand in Glove – Ch.3**

Dave looked quickly away when he realised he was checking out Kurt's ass as he walked from their spot propping up the bar to head towards the bathroom. It was an old habit; he'd inadvertently learned the art of looking without really _looking_, stealing quick glances here and there, and it was a hard habit to break, even here at Scandals, where guys – some of them, at least – were less than discreet when it came to enjoying their view. He looked back toward Kurt and allowed his eyes to linger on his high school crush – to name but _one_ thing Kurt had been to him - walk gracefully across the floor. He'd changed a lot since Dave had first noticed him; he was taller, his shoulders broader, hips slimmer and features sharper. The changes only aided Dave's attraction to the other boy. And though the clothes he wore now were a little tighter, less girly, a little bit sexier, they still revealed little of what lay underneath, and with Kurt it had always been part of the appeal; imagining what he'd be like under those layers, behind that haughty mask he wore..._Now would be the time to think about something else, _Dave quickly told himself and felt a small smile tug at the corners of his lips. Dave's eyes left Kurt only briefly before returning to see him laugh and vehemently shake his head at something a short, dark haired guy standing beside the bathroom door had obviously said to him before he quickly disappeared behind the men's room door. Dave did his best to push down whatever feeling it was that attempted to crawl upwards from his belly at _that_ sight.

Before he could analyse his thoughts further, he felt a hand gently clap him on the back, and looked right to see Mike smiling expectantly at him.

"Well, how's it going?"

"Good, I guess. We're just talking," Dave said coolly, shrugging his shoulders and taking a sip of beer.

"It looked a little more like 'just talking...and flirting and _eye-fucking'_ from where I was sitting, Cubby." Mike said and gave Dave's shoulder a rough squeeze.

"Shut up, it's not...he's just being friendly."

"_Very_ friendly," Dickie joined it from behind them

Dave shook Mike's hand from his shoulder and looked back and forth between the two men, earnest expression on his face, "Quit it, guys, seriously. Don't scare him off," There was something approaching panic in his voice. "He's coming back."

Dickie gasped in mock horror at the very suggestion and turned sharply to walk in the direction of the other customers waiting to be served. Mike chuckled and laid his hand softly back on Dave's shoulder, "We wouldn't do anything to fuck this up for you, Davey. You know that."

"Thanks," Dave said, eyes flicking to back to a fast-approaching Kurt. He whispered, "It's just...weird, y'know?"

"I know, man, I know," Mike nodded his head and gave Dave's shoulder a final squeeze.

Kurt hopped back onto the empty barstool he'd left behind and smiled tensely at the men in front of him, "Hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

"What? No," Dave shook Mike's hand from his shoulder again and tried not to sound guilty, "This is Mike, he works here; he's just a friend."

"I am _so_ not Davey's type," Mike chuckled and ignored the death-stare Dave was now shooting his way. He stuck out his hand towards Kurt, "Nice to meet you, Kurt, but if you'll excuse me, Dave just scared away my bartender and I need a gin and tonic inside me before the 'Decades Disco' goes full swing or I won't make it through the night." With that Mike turned away from them and boomed, "Dickie! Double G and T to the pool area, stat!"

"Sorry about that," Dave muttered.

"He seems...nice"

"He's a good guy, but, it's nothing like _that_, y'know?" Dave picked at the label on his beer bottle as he spoke. He didn't know quite what was going on between him and Kurt, but whatever it was, he knew he didn't want anything to ruin it now.

"I guess he's _not_ your type, then." Kurt smirked and waggled his eyebrows. "And I thought maybe we'd _both_ got lucky while I was away."

"Oh..." Dave's eyes widened.

Seeing the lost look on Dave's face, Kurt chuckled, "Kidding!"

"Um, okay, I wasn't..."

"David, what kind of boy do you take me for?" Kurt lightly slapped and Dave's forearm, "Although, a guy back there _did_ ask if I wanted company in the bathroom."

Dave didn't know what to say to that, some of the easiness was gone and he felt a little discomfited. He continued to peel back the label on his bottle of Bud.

"Which I obviously didn't," Kurt carried on, filling the burgeoning silence between them. "He wasn't even my type, anyway. "

"No? Kinda looked like your type," Dave said, solemnly.

"Oh? And how do you know what my type is?" Kurt raised a questioning eyebrow.

Dave shook his head a little, "Just going on your ex-boyfriend."

"Well," Kurt looked thoughtful for a moment. "I found Blaine attractive, obviously, but he's not really what I usually go for. Not that I've really _gone for_ anyone else, fantasies notwithstanding."

What on earth was Dave supposed to say to _that_? He quickly choked down the remainder of his beer instead.

Thankfully, before Dave had to worry about formulating an appropriate response, Kurt shrieked and threw back the rest of his drink too "I _love_ this song! Dance with me, David."

Dave was in shock. Again. "You like The Smiths?"

"Are you serious? After my Broadway Ballads compilation, The Smiths are my go-to band for moments of melancholia. No one does gay and depressed quite like Morrissey."

"I didn't think this was your kinda thing."

"I didn't think it would be _your_ kind of thing." Kurt leaned towards Dave, poking him lightly in the chest, then stage whispered, "I guess we're both full of surprises tonight."

Dave froze, eyes stuck on Kurt's long finger, focusing on the slight pressure of the digit on his chest. Was this actually happening? He began to question his sanity; maybe he'd fallen asleep on the couch earlier that afternoon, and was caught in some kind of masochistic dreamscape. The gentle press of Kurt's fingertip felt real as it became a tug and hooked into the space between shirt buttons, pulling Dave forward.

"Come on Karofsky, dance with me!"

"Really? I...I don't think I'm drunk enough..."

"You owe me a dance." Kurt's finger remained tucked resolutely between the folds of fabric in the centre of Dave's chest.

Dave could see the determination in Kurt's eyes and, this time, he knew resistance was futile. "Oh...I totally do, don't I?"

Kurt hopped off his seat and grabbed Dave's hand. "Come on!"

Dave wasn't averse to dancing, not really, but it wasn't something that came easily for him. Especially not in front of Kurt Hummel. Especially not _with _Kurt Hummel. He felt big and awkward and..._no_, _fuck it_...he would enjoy this moment if it killed him. He'd almost fucked up this short time with Kurt already.

_**#And everything depends upon  
>How near you stand to me...#<strong>_

He willed his shoulders to sway in time with the music, and felt the idiotic grin spreading itself across his face, despite his awkwardness. Kurt was mouthing the words and shaking his head as he moved fluidly in time with the bass. Dave had never loved this song more, as Morrissey's even voice filled the space around them.

_**#And if the people stare  
>Then the people stare<br>Oh, I really don't know and I really don't care...#**_

He tried to take it all in. Kurt's expression was beyond compare - he'd seen him sing and dance a dozen times, but _never_ like this – he looked so _free_; his head was thrown back and his arms made long, languid movements around him. Dave shuffled his feet and wondered what to do with his own arms, when suddenly his hand was in Kurt's again as the boy raised it high and spun beneath it.

_**#For the Good Life is out there somewhere,  
>so stay on my arm, you little charmer...# <strong>_

As he let go of Dave's hand, Kurt's fell to rest of Dave's shoulder, joined quickly by his other arm,wrapping around Dave's neck. Before he could process what was happening, Dave's hand reached for Kurt's hip and, despite everything, he almost expected him to back away from the touch but, instead, Kurt shimmied his hips and moved closer still, bringing their bodies almost flush. Dave could feel the heat of Kurt's breath on his lips and it was almost too much; he felt himself pull his hips closer still. Lyrics gone, the closing bars of the song played and it took everything Dave had not to move his hips forward, he was close to losing it. Kurt's eyes were burning into his and he felt just as terrified as he had the last time he was this close to Kurt Hummel, in the locker room at McKinley, over a year ago.

"Kurt," he whispered, voice hoarse. "What_ is_ this?"

"This is _dancing_, David," Kurt replied, voice soft and breathy, still smiling faintly, and curled a loose hand around the base of Dave's neck, "Do you want to stop?"

"No," Dave mouthed, though he wasn't sure if any sound actually came out.

The swayed together as song faded and morphed into a Latin beat that became 'Livin' La Vida Loca'.

Dave's feet stilled and Kurt outright giggled, "How about now?"

"Um, kinda, a little."

"Nothing kills a mood quite like Ricky Martin," Kurt said sardonically, and peeled his arms from around Dave's neck.

Dave pulled his hand back from Kurt's hip, and drew his other up to absently rub at the warm spot on his neck where Kurt's hand had just been.

Kurt leaned instantly back into him, hand resting in his bicep, and whispered "Want to go out and get some fresh air? It's kind of hot in here all of a sudden."

Dave swallowed hard, nodded enthusiastically, and followed Kurt as he made his way through the other bodies on the dancefloor who seemed to be enjoying the Ricky Martin song.

They stumbled out the door and down the steps into the cold night air. Kurt's shoes made a crunchy noise as he strolled across the pebbly ground and leaned back against the brick wall, still smiling.

Dave looked at him and struggled to believe that what he _thought_ was happening might actually _be_ happening. He was no good at reading signals; he'd fallen foul of misreading Kurt before and had no desire to do so again. He shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled dumbly back at the tipsy boy in front of him, who wore only skinny jeans, a grey and white striped, long-sleeved t-shirt and a silver-grey vest. Dave said the only safe thing he could think of under the circumstances, "Aren't you cold?"

"Freezing," he replied, and wrapped a long arm around himself for effect.

"So..." Dave said idly and toed at a particularly _fascinating_ pebble on the ground.

"So," Kurt said, lilt in his voice, as he stepped towards Dave and hooked a finger between his shirt buttons again, pulling him closer, "Come and heat me up, hamhock."

_A/N: The lyrics quoted are from 'Hand in Glove' by The Smiths, which is clearly where the name of this fic comes from. I hope it's plausible for both boys to like this band – I think Kurt's tastes would be broad and eclectic, and I imagine Dave to be a dark horse when it comes to these kind of things. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Hand in Glove – Ch.4**

"Come and heat me up, hamhock."

None too subtle hint taken, Dave let himself be pulled into Kurt – _Kurt,_ gripping a handful of Dave's cotton shirt, lips wet and parted, gleam in his eye half born of vodka martinis and half –

"This time, I actually _want_ you to kiss me, David, so..." Kurt spoke, cutting off the thought – _any_ though - before Dave could finish it, and attacked him, mouth first, and _hard_, so hard he couldn't resist if he'd wanted to. It was a lot like that first time in the locker room; rough and needy and confusing as _fuck_.

Dave's heart pounded hard in his chest and his hand reached tentatively for Kurt's face, thumb grazing a high cheekbone, as Kurt paid particular attention to Dave's bottom lip, sucking it roughly between his own, biting, swiping his tongue across the delicate flesh before seeking entrance inside. Dave felt more than heard himself whimper at that, then all he could taste was Kurt; slightly sweet and spicy and bitter and, _god_, so hot in contrast the cold air around them. Kurt's hand tangled painfully in Dave's hair, tugging and pulling whilst deepening their kiss. The conflicting sensations sent twin bolts of heat through his body; flushing his face and turning the night around them into a distant haze while, at the same time, lighting a trail down his spine and to heat a low flame at his aching groin. In that moment, he never wanted to taste anything but the warm, wet sweetness of Kurt's mouth ever again.

Their tongues continued their tumultuous dance, but their frenetic pace slowed; Dave continued to stroke Kurt's face as they kissed and his free hand found itself gripping Kurt's hip again, more assuredly now than on the dance floor, fingers sliding up and under the soft fabric of his shirt to rub the smooth, warm skin beneath it. Kurt reacted to the touch with a soft, high gasp that pulled their hungry mouths briefly apart, just enough to let Dave open his eyes and to reassure himself that this was _real_, and to catch sight of the pink flush on Kurt's skin, just visible under the veil of dim streetlight, and he spoke in a low rasp that made Dave's already aching hard-on pulse painfully against the button fly of his jeans.

"Let's go to my car."

That brief skin to skin contact coupled with Kurt's words – not special words, not the explicit, dirty words he'd imagined Kurt saying in his numerous Hummel-themed fantasies, but words that, coming from Kurt, meant a lot – made Dave feel like he never had before, giddy and vulnerable all at once, ready to open himself up and let Kurt crawl inside him whole if he felt so inclined.

Kurt dragged him by the hand through the parking lot and, as soon as they'd reached the shiny black Navigator, pulled him in for another heated kiss. Dave felt emboldened by the need he saw in Kurt's wide eyes; pupils blown so they looked almost black in the muted light. Leaning one hand against the hood of the car, Dave pushed his body flush against Kurt's, pinning him to the car door. He allowed his free hand to travel down Kurt's side, skimming his waist, his hip and sliding over the swell of his ass to grip the back of his thigh and squeeze. Dave felt the muscle underhand stiffen at the touch, nerve-tight – and Dave could _feel _that wasn't all that was stiffening – and continued to squeeze; running his hand back up Kurt's ass, his fingers pressing tight against coarse jeans, their mouth's breaking apart briefly for an awesome moan to escape Kurt's lips.

Dave's hand found Kurt's face again as allowed himself to look at the other boy; his eyes were downcast, lips parted and chest heaving. "You're so..." Dave attempted to tell Kurt how beautiful he was; how _fucking sexy_, how amazing, but the words stuck in his throat and before he could free them, Kurt's tongue was occupying his mouth again. Dave's hand continued to knead Kurt's ass, taking no objection as acceptance, and he slipped his hips a little closer, squeezed tighter. Kurt's fingers dug hard into his back as they rutted against one another, but Dave faltered as felt Kurt tremble under him, not sure if he was nervous and excited, like he was, or_, shit_, was he scared? Or maybe just cold?

As if to answer Kurt pulled his mouth from Dave's and whispered, "Inside – let's...inside the car."

As soon as Dave's ass hit the seat, Kurt was climbing on top of him, straddling his thighs. Quick, cool hands rushed under his shirts, stroking up his belly towards his chest, yanking gently at the hair there, and his greedy mouth was on Dave's again, devouring the moan that desperately tried to escape Dave's lips.

Dave jerked his hips upwards and against Kurt's, who spread his thighs wider over Dave's so that their crotches were pressed tight together. Dave could feel how hard Kurt was, for _him_, and together with the desperate keening sound he was making between each kiss, it almost made Dave came in his pants. He closed his eyes, and let his head fall back, trying to regain some semblance of control. Kurt took that as invitation to nip and suck on his neck, causing Dave to moan unashamedly.

Before he realised what he was doing, the palm of Dave's hand was pressed tight against the fabric of Kurt's pants, rubbing at his erection, causing Kurt to bite down on the tender flesh of his neck. Breathless, Dave hooked a thumb into the waist of Kurt's jeans and asked, "Can I...?"

"_Yes_, fuck, _please_..."

And, _wow_, hearing Kurt like that? _"So fucking hot..."_

"Mmh," Kurt's moan vibrated against the pulse point of Dave's neck as Dave unzipped his fly.

Kurt pulled away from Dave's neck long enough to make short work of the buttons on is jeans buttons, yanking his pants down low on his hips to release his erection. Dave felt himself blush harder under Kurt's gaze – and how was there enough blood flowing _there_ to make _that_ possible? – and let his own eyes settle on Kurt's dick. It was as close as he'd been to another erection and, wow, _yep_, just when he thought he was as gay as he was gonna get, almost coming just from the sight of another guy's cock (_Kurt Hummel's_ cock) in close proximity to his own probably made him just a _little bit more_ gay.

They sat there, panting heavily, steaming the car windows and looking cautiously at one another, like everything until now had been pretending; getting partially naked made it real.

"Can I..." Dave asked again, hand hovering in the small space between their bodies, "...touch you?"

"Fuck, just do it Karofsky, before I change my mind." Kurt's tone was biting, impatient, despite his low rasp and it threw Dave for a loop.

"Kurt, what? Wait..." Dave backed his hands away, holding them up as though surrendering. What the fuck? _Before he changes his mind?_ Kurt's words stung. "What does that even mean?"

"Just," Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and pulled his lips tight together. "Let's just do this, and..."

"'Do this?' What the fuck, Kurt? Why are you even doing this with me?"

"Really? You're asking this now?" Kurt crashed their lips together again and dug long fingers into Dave's bicep, hard enough to bruise, grinding their naked erections together.

"Uhn, Kurt, stop..."

"Are you _kidding_ me, Karofsky?"

"Fuck, Kurt, I want this so much but not like this," Dave grabbed Kurt's arms and pushed him so their chests were no longer touching. "I don't know what's got into you; I don't wanna do anything to make you hate me again."

"Then shut up and..." Kurt wriggled out of Dave's grip and leaned towards him again, only to be stopped by Dave's hand on his chest.

"You're drunk and, shit, Kurt, you're obviously using me to prove some kind of point." Dave's hand was fisted tight in Kurt's shirt and he looked him in the eye as he spoke." I _really_ fucking like you, I want you, but I don't want it to be like this."

"Isn't this what you do? Hook up with random guys and fuck and go home and feel ashamed of yourself?"

"You know what? Fuck you, Hummel." Dave pushed Kurt off his lap and struggled to put his dick back in his pants. "I knew you'd get around to judging me. Not that it's any of your business, but no, this isn't what I _do_. I've made out with exactly two guys in my entire life and haven't gotten as far with anyone, ever, as I just got with you. _Happy?_ Now you can judge me for being a pathetic virgin on top of everything else."

Kurt sat up, tugged at the fastening on his jeans and pulled down his vest, anger quickly turning to hurt as he let out a sob and pushed weakly at Dave's arm. "Just go, David. Get out. Forget this ever happened."

Dave didn't respond right away, lust turned to anger in his chest, blood pounding in his ears and he wanted to lash out; to call Kurt out for being a teasing little bitch, to slam the door of the car and smash his fist into _something_.

But he didn't – he closed his eyes and focussed on his breathing, just like his therapist had shown him and when he spoke, it was calm. "No."

"Get out of my car!" Kurt's voice was shrill and Dave looked at him and saw wet, glassy eyes.

Whatever bullshit Kurt was pulling on Dave, he couldn't leave him alone, here, like this. "I'm not gonna let you drive like this. Sit for a minute, calm the fuck down, and I'll take you home."

"I'm not leaving my car _here_."

"Good, 'cause I don't have my truck tonight. I'll drive you home in this, and then I'll walk."

"You're not driving my car."

"Really? Good enough for a revenge fuck but not good enough to drive your precious car?"

Kurt was silent for a long moment then heaved a sigh, "That's not what this was about."

Dave let out a not-quite-laugh and turned towards the boy huddled at the opposite end of the seat. "Oh no?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"I just wanted..."

Dave huffed as Kurt hesitated. He didn't blame Hummel for doing this, not really,but he didn't have to make it easy on him.

"I just wanted to feel...wanted or desirable or _something_, okay? I wanted to be something I'm not, because no one wants what I am..."

"That is so not fucking true, Kurt." Dave shook his head bitterly.

"Oh no? I'm not sexy, I'm not spontaneous or fun or exciting, I'm bitchy and judgemental..." Kurt broke off in a choked sob.

"Is this all about Blaine?"

He was silent for a minute but for a sniff as he wiped stray tears from his cheek.

"Seriously, just because one douchey guy thinks that, it doesn't mean anything. I mean, you're, like, the sexiest guy I've ever seen." Dave felt heat creep back into his cheeks as he said that, and looked out the still steamy window of the car, not wanting to see Kurt's expression at that admission.

"Really?"

Kurt's voice was soft and low and tentative, Dave would have laughed at the absurdity of that question if Kurt hadn't sounded so fragile.

"Shit, Kurt, _really._ I'm...I mean, I've been..." Dave paused and swallowed thickly, before chancing a look at Kurt's eyes. It felt good, in its own fucked up kind of way, to be finally saying this to Kurt. "I've liked you for a _really_ long time. I know it didn't seem like it, and I know I fucked up beyond repair, but whatever tonight was about for you, it was like a fucking fantasy come true for me. Up until, like, five minutes ago."

"Then why did you stop?"

Dave sighed. "I told you, I don't want you to hate me because of this, I don't want to take advantage of you because you're drunk and feeling bad about yourself. I don't want you to use me for...I don't want you to regret...being with me. I'm not that guy, Kurt. Not anymore, anyway."

"I'm sorry."

"It's ok. I get it, y'know? And I don't deserve any better from you, after...everything."

"It wasn't like that, I swear," Kurt's eyes shone bright with sincerity and he edged toward Dave across the leather seat. "This was about having fun. It wasn't about getting revenge on you or anything like that. You seemed so...different. And I'd been thinking about you, and wondering, and..." Kurt trailed off, letting his head fall back against the headrest of the backseat and his eyes close. "You're the only other gay guy I know, and I wanted to go out, and flirt, and see if...you'd be interested. But I don't _do_ things like this, and I got a little nervous and just wanted it to _happen_. Before _either_ of us changed our minds."

Dave wasn't sure what to say to that, so stayed quiet, watching Kurt, wishing, under the circumstances, that he could stop admiring the view; the pale stretch of neck, the fan of dark lashed on his cheek... He began to speak again, eyes still closed.

"I've only had one boyfriend, and I had to practically beg him to go out with me. No-one's ever wanted me, _like that_, you know? And I never knew if what happened before, when you kissed me, was because I was, just, _there_, or because you liked me or..."

"It was because I liked you."

"Okay," Kurt barely whispered, and opened his eyes, turning his head slightly towards Dave and meeting his gaze again.

They were silent for a long moment, some noisy patrons exited the bar and passed the car on their way, making kissy sounds and giggling.

"What about you?" Dave broke the silence; eyes darting towards the window, then slowly back to meet Kurt's.

"What about me?" Kurt asked, earnestly.

"I mean, tonight. With me. Was it because I was just here or..."

"Or because I like you?"

"Yeah."

"I like who you've become."

"Okay."

There was another stretch of silence, and Dave felt his phone buzz in his shirt pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. The time was 22.51 and he had a message from Mike that read 'Have fun. Be safe!' He couldn't help but snigger at that.

"What?" Kurt asked, a little nervously.

"Nothing. C'mon, it's almost eleven, let me drive you home."

Kurt nodded his assent and they each made a final attempt to assemble themselves before getting out of the backseat.

Dave slid into the driver's seat and Kurt handed him his keys. They sat in awkward silence for the journey. Dave watched as Kurt fidgeted it the passenger seat; reaching for the radio, then changing his mind, then idly drumming his fingers against the armrest on the door.

As they neared the Hummel-Hudson house, Kurt gestured and said, "It's the third one on the left."

"I know." Dave replied, then swiftly wished he hadn't, though, thankfully, Kurt didn't question it.

They pulled towards the house and Kurt told him to park here rather than in the drive. The car stilled and Dave unbuckled his seatbelt, turning his head to face Kurt, "So, goodnight, I guess."

"Goodnight." Kurt said, though he hadn't moved, and was still buckled to the seat.

They shared a lingering look that Dave had to break before he did something stupid. After everything, all he wanted to do was to lean in and kiss Kurt on his stupid, soft, pouty lips.

"Dave, I," Kurt laid a hand on Dave's wrist as he broke eye contact, and spoke quickly, like he'd been holding it all in throughout the journey. "I had a really good time tonight before...well, before I think I ruined it. I'm kind of a mess right now, I know that, and I've had too much to drink, but I _do_ like you; who you are, who you were tonight, and if you like me, then...we shouldn't both feel shitty about this because of some stupid high school drama, right?"

Dave didn't meet Kurt's gaze, and attempted to pull out of Kurt's grip. "Kurt, I..."

"I'm tired of feeling bad about myself, and I know you are too."

Dave stilled and looked back at Kurt; his eyes so bright, hint of a smile playing on his lips and..._fuck it_, this was _exactly_ what he wanted, why was he turning it away?

"I am. I _really_ am. But I don't think I can give you what you want." Dave's hand found itself on top of Kurt's, stroking his thumb over cold knuckles.

"Dave, _I_ don't even know what I want."

"Then I guess we're both kinda fucked." Dave smiled, and Kurt smiled warmly back at him.

"I guess we are. What're you gonna do, though, right?" Kurt shrugged his shoulders and gave an exaggerated sigh.

Dave leaned in then, uncertainty be damned, and pressed his lips against Kurt's, eliciting a peep of pleasant surprise from the boy he'd been crushing on since freshman year. It was softer, more chaste, than any kiss they'd shared yet, and made Dave's head feel light.

"I better go," Dave said and pulled reluctantly away from Kurt, but knew that if they stayed like this for much longer there was good chance of them winding up in the backseat again. "Can I call you tomorrow? See how you feel about all this sober."

Kurt giggled, "I'm a particularly lucid drunk."

"We'll see." Dave smiled and stretched his hand towards the door handle.

They each exited the car and Dave locked up before walking around to the passenger door to give Kurt back his keys. Their hands lingered on each other during the exchange and Dave couldn't keep the smile from his lips.

"This has been the weirdest night of my life."

"Mine too, but it was fun. Mostly."

"It was."

With that he pulled away and started backing slowly away from Kurt, hand raised in a goodbye gesture.

"Text me when you get home," Kurt said, mirroring the gesture with a little wave.

Dave stopped. "I – wait, I don't have your number."

"Well, disaster averted," Kurt smiled, reached his hand toward Dave once more, and pulled him in close. Dave wondered if he'd ever be able to leave the stretch of sidewalk, now he was captured firmly in Kurt's gravitational pull. "Give me your phone."

Their fingertips brushed as Dave handed Kurt the device and watched as he entered the digits. Their gaze met again as Kurt handed the phone back, but refused to let it go, instead, sandwiching both the cellphone and Dave's hand between both of his own. Dave felt something flutter deep in his chest that he was too scared to name. As he made to pull his hand away, Kurt's grip tightened mischievously, and he leaned in to whisper sweetly against Dave's ear, "I _like_ you, David Karofsky."

Dave smiled broadly at that and, reaching towards Kurt's face with his free hand before he thought better of it, stroked the pad of his thumb across Kurt's bottom lip, and spoke softly, "Thank you for one of the weirdest, _sexiest_, most _fun_ night's of my life, Kurt Hummel."

Kurt blushed, and let his hands fall away from Dave's, "Thank _you_ for being a gentleman."

"I wasn't having gentlemanly thoughts, though," Dave replied, shaking his head and laughing, as he started backing slowly away from Kurt again. "And I'm about to go home and finish having some pretty ungentlemanly thoughts..._about you_."

Kurt gasped in mock horror and bit his lip.

"Well, baby steps, right?" Dave smiled and turned on his heel, knowing if he didn't go home _now, _he never would. He called out over his shoulder, "Goodnight, Kurt."

As he came to the end of the street, he thought he heard Kurt call out, "Sweet dreams." He couldn't trust himself to look back, so instead, he brought out his phone, and kept walking.

THE END


End file.
